


homophones

by duckmoles



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Implied Eye Trauma, Jonah is terrible but that's a given, Pre-Canon, Sharing a Body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22553935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckmoles/pseuds/duckmoles
Summary: If Elias had any control of his mouth, it would be curling up in a distasteful scowl, the petty sort of upturn gifted to him by virtue of being born into the kind of family that summers in the Seychelles.(Elias, newly possessed.)
Relationships: Elias Bouchard & Jonah Magnus
Comments: 14
Kudos: 124





	homophones

If Elias had any control of his mouth, it would be curling up in a distasteful scowl, the petty sort of upturn gifted to him by virtue of being born into the kind of family that summers in the Seychelles. As it stands, he can’t help but do the mental equivalent of a strong, disapproving huff. _ That’s _ my _ stuff_, he doesn’t quite think.

“Really, Elias,” his own voice says, quiet and equally as disapproving. “I knew you were disappointing but this is, inexplicably, even beyond me.” His hands are rifling through his wardrobe, holding up a pair of jeans covered in various bodily fluids between two newly manicured fingers before tossing them to the already considerable pile of impulse buys Elias had made in the time he’d moved into his flat. _ His _ flat. His lease definitely didn’t cover body snatching.

Elias’s body promptly stands up, stretching back. “I’ve missed this,” his voice says under its breath. “So…_ flexible_. As much as I abhor the process, there are some benefits.”

The _ process_. Elias mentally flinches back from the memory – Mr. Wright, summoning him to a meeting, promising a promotion, of all things, though Elias hadn’t done anything as his personal assistant except mistake a Leitner for an ashtray (in his defense, it was already so blackened and burnt, curling up at the edges that it – _ look_, he had already been 2 joints deep). Mr. Wright, Head of the Magnus Institute, pulling him aside into a forgotten corridor (_quite _ scandalous). Mr. Wright, guiding him into the tunnels (the tunnels! under the Institute! Elias had already started memorizing their route, hatching plans for sneaking away to slack off with Shelley) and talking genially all the while about responsibility and devotion. Mr. Wright, moving towards him with a funny-looking melon baller in his hands, Elias barely paying him any attention, eyes fixated in shock at the body, dark holes where its eyes were meant to be, slumped on the floor.

Elias’s face twists into an unfamiliar expression. “You’re curious.” It’s not a question, the way the words come out of his mouth; it’s a statement of irrefutable fact. “I knew you were good for something.” He – his body – strides over the pile of clothes, into the bathroom. Over the sink, there’s a mirror. Elias’s eyes – his – its –

The eyes staring back at him aren’t his. They’re the same shape, the same size, color, everything, but they look…different. Darker – no. Deeper. Elias tries to look away, but he can’t. He’s staring at himself but he’s not looking at himself but he’s not doing it but he’s not –

The expression is one Elias knows from countless hours of sitting through Wright’s “professional development” meetings, the smug, “I know something you don’t know,” look that Elias has always hated. It’s not something he’s ever seen on himself.

Elias thinks back to the countless number of statement givers he’s escorted to Gertrude, some still blubbering and panicked, some disquietingly calm. He hasn’t read a lot of the statements, having never actually worked in the archives, but there was one he read when he was working in artefact storage, just before he was transferred to work under James Wright: a young woman, being stalked. She had no hard evidence, nothing she could bring to the police, only ever a shadow in the corner of her vision. She had been found alone in her fifth flat in as many months, dead of blood loss. She had gouged out one of her eyes.

_ I don’t – _

“No-” and it’s strange to see his mouth move, shape words without any of his own consciousness behind it “-you don’t.” The head in the mirror tilts slightly. “Wouldn’t you like to?”

Elias feels his mind rise up, try to gain forceful control of his limbs. He thinks, _ Tell me_, and he thinks, _ What’s happening_, and he thinks, _ Am I dreaming_, and the face in the mirror smiles.

And then Elias knows. He knows _ everything_.

**Author's Note:**

> this has been languishing in my drafts for longer than i'd like to admit! the timeline/canon may be a little (or a lot) off, but _handwaves_


End file.
